Sand, Surf and Snape
by snapebelongstome
Summary: Snape finds himself in a paradise filled with half-naked women but he's still miserable. Can Hermione snap Snape out of it? In response to a WIKTT challenge.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Everything recognizable from the Harry Potter universe belongs to J K Rowling, except for the character of Ezra Boon who is my own creation.

Sand, Surf and Snape

  
There was nothing that Professor Severus Snape despised more than sand. Repulsively soft, fine granules that found their way into everything. Clinging to anything. Nothing being sacred. Shoes. Clothing. Hair. The dark wizard scowled as he held up his glass of ice water. Black eyes followed grains of sand wafting their way down passed the ice cubes settling into a heap at the bottom of the glass.

It was the third distilled water he had ordered. Each arriving with a disgusting piece of shriveled up lemon, a pathetic looking crumpled umbrella, and a…_bendy_ straw. The instant that the umbrella and straw were discarded onto the table Snape blasted them into oblivion with his wand. Childish perhaps, yet none the less it aided him in releasing some of the pent up frustration he was experiencing. He squeezed what little juice there was from the lemon into his water. Then carefully so as not to tip the glass too far forward and alter the location of the sand pile, he took a long unsatisfying drink.

Severus hated outdoor café's. He hated being out in the heat of the afternoon sun, constantly needing to mutter cooling charms and smelling alarmingly enough like _coconut_. The Professor would have preferred to drink a potion that he had brewed himself to provide protection from the sun's brutal UV rays. Unfortunately nothing seemed to keep his fair skin from burning better than the coconut scented _muggle_ sunscreen which he had purchased and grudgingly slathered all over himself hours earlier. Why in the name of Merlin did the "Shaken, but Not Stirred" Potions Master's Conference have to be held in such an inhospitable place?

Staring languidly out over the bikini-drenched beach Snape suddenly felt very old and very alone. Being stuck in a tropical paradise, a Nirvana filled with half-naked women did nothing to improve his mood only to darken it. He held no illusions that he was deemed unattractive by members of the opposite sex and fully accepted the fact that he was destined to spend his life in solitary confinement. He deserved no less. The grievous error Snape had made in joining the ranks of Voldemort in his youth had guaranteed him a life of isolation. A life void of love and companionship. A life filled only with misery and self-loathing. But it didn't mean he had to like it, and it didn't mean he couldn't wish for the tender embrace of a woman. Someone to share his nights, his days, someone to talk to, but most importantly someone whom he could love and who could love him in return. If only that were possible…which it wasn't.

Snape's lips twisted up in disgust as his eyes landed on Ezra Boon. Boon was a wizard whose knowledge in Potions was unrivalled and unmatched. Snape had no doubt that one day, in the not so distant future, he would surpass Boon's erudition and ability and become the foremost Potions Master in the world. But looking at the organizer of the ludicrouslynamed Potions Master's Conference, proudly parading up the beach with more wrinkled skin sagging off his long angular body than what was covered by his tiny Speedo, all respect Snape once held for the wizard was instantly lost. To make matters worse Boon had two young witches flanking him on either side, both appearing to be – enjoying the hundred and thirty-six-year-old mage's company.

"Oh Gods…don't do it." Snape muttered. He tactfully diverted his eyes as Boon bent over to pick up an inflatable beach ball that had rolled away from a group of giggling girls. This sight gave any unfortunate individual who had not the good sense to look away, a view that was – likely to turn even the most hardened of stomachs. But the fact remained that if that puckered up old prune was able to garner himself with two very attractive women, then why couldn't he even manage just one?

Snape wasn't desperate, but at the same time, he wasn't particular either. As long as she was somewhat attractive – no wait – as long as she was breathing… Snape cursed under his breath, he wasn't thinking straight. He had to get out of the sun. Because to be realistic, Snape knew that the woman he wanted, the woman he needed had to be his equal or near to it in intelligence, she had to have a constant craving for learning and exploring new ideas. She had to love books as much as he did. She needed not to be afraid of his moods – and Merlin knows he was moody. Match his sarcasm and possess the ability to throw it right back at him.

Raking his hand through his lank raven hair Snape glanced back at Boon - who thankfully had returned to an upright position – and watched him as he continued his journey with his entourage along the beach. Snape frowned. This had to be hell. There was no doubt. It contained the same ingredients as hell: unbearable heat, liquid that didn't quench his thirst, and women as far as the eye could see that he was unable to possess.

"Excuse me, Professor Snape?"

A strangely familiar voice brought Snape out of his reverie and he hastily shelved his personal bitter musings for later that evening when he could address his thoughts with a rather large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. Snape found himself face to face with the know-it-all Gryffindor who had plagued his life for seven extremely long and excruciating years. In one predatory glance he noticed quite quickly that the once bushy-haired, gangly teenager had blossomed into a - beautiful - woman. A woman with an air of grace, sleek long brown hair and intense cinnamon eyes. His breath caught in his chest. When had this happened? He certainly hadn't noticed while she was his student, but then Snape wasn't in the habit of looking at his students – in that way - especially ones that were friends of the bloody-boy-who-lived-only-to-torment him. But now it was quite obvious as she stood before him wearing a bikini that she was filled out rather nicely in all the right places. There was no doubt that she _had_ grown up. Snape forced a scowl onto his face. Any thoughts of Hermione Granger being attractive and desirable were forcibly wiped from his mind.

"Miss Granger," he sneered, "you have just confirmed that I am indeed in - _hell_"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as a flush joined her already rosy cheeks and confusion over his comment clouded her eyes "Um - may I join you Professor?" she asked nervously.

Snape let out a rather dramatic sigh and waved his hand vaguely towards the vacant chair across from him. Hermione sat down, and looked very uneasy. Snape couldn't blame her, not many people felt comfortable around him, but then _she_ was the one who had invited herself to _his_ table. Intruded into his space. He was not going to play nice and he was not about to coddle an insufferable Gryffindor – no matter how good she looked in a bikini. Severus growled. The heat was certainly making him think strange thoughts.

"I was of the understanding Miss Granger, that you were attending Oxford," he said in a voice as smooth as velvet.

Hermione involuntarily shivered. "Yes, sir. I am."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this isn't Oxford."

"No, it isn't."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Why are you here then?" he asked exasperated. "On a romantic tryst with Potter or perhaps with that wretched side kick of his, Weasley?" Snape cringed inwardly hoping he hadn't sounded – _jealous_. As if!

"I'm here for the conference," she answered boldly. 

Snape's eyes narrowed in on her. "Only Potions Master's and their guests are permitted into the conference." He raised his glass to take a drink.

"I am well aware of that, Professor Snape," Hermione snapped, annoyed by his attitude. "For your information, I am a guest of Professor Reid's."

Snape choked slightly on his water. He wasn't sure if he was surprised more at her tone of voice or over what she had just told him. "Reid? In the name of Merlin, girl! Do you have any idea the kind of reputation Reid has?" He lowered his voice to a cold whisper. "He has seduced more young witches in his three years at Oxford than you have teeth."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes at him. "That's probably a slight exaggeration, besides it makes no difference to me whether he has or not." She leaned forward placing her elbows on the table. "This conference is important to me, and I am willing to do what I have to do in order to attend."

"That would be something I would expect from one of my Slytherins not from a Gryffindor," Snape said making it almost sound like a compliment.

"Well if you took the time to look, Professor," she leaned back in her chair, "you'd see that there's more to me than books and cleverness."

And so he did. Snape let his eyes drop and subtly soak her in. There really _was_ more to her than books and cleverness. Hermione suddenly didn't feel as brave as she was pretending to be and wrapped her netted cotton cover up tightly around herself. She met Snape's glittering dark eyes and he smirked at her.

"So why are you telling me all this?" Snape asked crossing his arms. "Are you hoping that out of some sort of misplaced obligation to a former student, that I'll save you from the clutches of that despicable deviant of yours who has gall to call himself a professor?"

"Not in the least." Hermione's sharp intake of air made him see the truth even though she flatly denied it. "You never showed an inkling of kindness towards me during my seven years at Hogwarts, why would I believe that you would start now?" 

Before he could answer, a Pina Colada was set down in front of Hermione spilling slightly. 

"Sorry about that love," the waitress said as she tugged at the back of the very short grass skirt she was wearing. "This blasted skirt is sharper than it looks. It's poking me in places I never knew I had." 

"Why do they make you wear such things?" Hermione asked in disgust. "If I were you I would flatly refuse." 

"Last year we got to wear bikinis," she replied as Hermione watched Snape tilt his head in order to get a better look at the area that the waitress was complaining about. "Hell I'd even lower myself to putting on one of those awful tankini's that some of the women are wearing this year. Anything would be better than this wretched thing." Snape jerked up quickly as the waitress turned to him. "See something you like?" she asked with a grin. 

Hermione stifled a giggle at the sputtering Potions Master as he opted for a curt shake of his head rather than a vocal response of which he was clearly incapable of making. She'd never seen her former professor at a loss for words. Hermione spoke up taking the waitress' focus off of Snape. "Excuse me, but I didn't order this drink."

"It's from your friend at the hotel, and he wanted me to give you this," she handed Hermione a small envelope, then tugged again at her hula skirt and left.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione studied the envelope for a moment before glancing up at Snape, who even though he was extremely curious, had a look of utter boredom painted on his pale face. Tearing the envelope open, Hermione read over the note then in a fit of disgust she crumpled it up and tossed it angrily onto the table. Catching the glint in Snape's eye, she reached out to retrieve the parchment but Snape was faster. He snatched it up and smoothed it out on his black cotton pants.

"Had a quarrel with your boyfriend, Miss Granger?" he mocked looking down his aquiline nose at her. "Having trouble in – paradise? Hmm?"

Hermione glared at him. "No. It's nothing like that at all. Please," she said pointing to the parchment in his hand, "give that back."

Snape ignored her and read the note over. A solitary eyebrow quirked upwards and when he was finished he slowly folded up the parchment and held it tightly in his hand. "Apparently your Gryffindor values greatly overshadowed any of your Slytherin tactics. Tell me Miss Granger," he asked silkily, "are you planning on spending every night on the beach or was last night an exception?" 

Looking away her face flushed in anger. When she finally spoke, Hermione's voice quaked slightly. "When Professor Reid invited me to the conference, he promised me that we would have separate rooms. But when we arrived…"

"Stupid girl," taunted Snape. "How naïve can you be?" Hermione narrowed her eyes viciously at him, which only seemed to encourage him further. "How could you believe that someone like Reid would honestly book two rooms?"

"I had hoped that he was a man with a sense of honor and integrity like – like you," she replied softly.

Snape's eyes widened in surprise. A strange rush of emotions washed over him. Did this know-it-all really think that of him? "Miss Granger, why is this conference so important that you would risk your – reputation to attend?"

Hermione plucked the umbrella out of her drink and played with it between her fingers. "I - I loved your classes, Professor Snape, even if you were a horrible to me most of the time. I looked forward to each lesson knowing that you would teach us something new and exciting."

Snape clenched his jaw. He had behaved horribly towards her, but at the time it was necessary. "You were the brightest student I've every had the pleasure of teaching." Hermione's eyes brightened, and Snape found himself once again noticing how she had changed, how she had grown into a beautiful young woman. Damn the sun … Damn the heat… He needed to find some shade and fast. Still he was unable to pull himself away from her. Snape leaned forward onto the table. "Please understand Hermione that as much as I wanted to, I couldn't openly encourage you. But instead I could challenge you, make you think and try to help you to succeed in other ways."

"You did, Professor. It was you who made me stronger, and I thank you for that. You're the one who gave me the desire to succeed, to push myself beyond my limits. Trust me, I do understand," Hermione smiled placing her hand upon his. 

Snape almost stopped breathing. She had willingly touched him, and her hand felt so warm and soft. A strange, yet pleasurable sensation that her touch brought him made him shiver. He allowed himself to smile slightly at her in return.

"There's something about a simmering cauldron that ensnares my senses," she laughed lightly as she took a spin off of his opening speech to first year students. "The first time I made a potion, I knew that it was what I wanted to do. What I was meant to do. That's why I'm going to Oxford. They offer the best potions program available. And the reason I want to attend this conference is because I know I will learn more in these three days than I ever will in year at University."

Snape turned his hand upwards placing her hand inside his and squeezed gently. "Come on Miss Granger, if you're going to be my guest at the conference then we need to get you a room of your own."

Hermione stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then as the realization of what he had said dawned on her, her entire face lit up and she beamed at him. "Thank you, Professor Snape," she grinned.

As they exited the café and neared the hotel pool, Hermione pointed excitedly to an aged wizard teetering on the edge of the diving board. "Isn't that Ezra Boon?"

Snape cringed at the sight, Boon looked more nauseatingly wrinkled the closer he got to him. "Unfortunately it is," Snape scowled. He placed his hand gently at the small of Hermione's back, urging her to move forward more quickly.

"Severus!" Boon shouted from atop his perch. "I want to talk to you -" 

Even the sight of Boon's graceless swan dive couldn't dampen Snape's mood. Hermione shrieked as the cold water splashed over her and Snape. She grabbed hold of Snape's arm clinging tightly to him as she laughed. 

Perhaps, Snape thought, hell wasn't so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

__

It had to have been the coconut scented muggle sunscreen…

There was really no other explanation. Snape growled half to himself and half to the bottle of tanning oil that lay mangled and discarded in the bottom of the brass plated trash bin. There must have been something in it that had addled his brain. Something which amplified his testosterone levels which in return thoroughly shut down his ability to think and act rationally.

During the last three hours since _she_ had come back into his life, Severus had been on an emotional roller coaster. Now, within the confines of his sun lit hotel room, Snape tried to wrap his mind around what had happened. He stopped his pacing to glare out of the balcony window at the ocean as waves crashed recklessly upon the shore oblivious to the fury that was raging inside of him. Snape knew what happened. Hermione Granger is what happened. In a matter of a few incomprehensible minutes he had gone from his customary disposition of the evil, unapproachable Potions Master into an absolute _dunderhead_.

Why had he felt the need to comfort her or show her even a scrap of kindness when he never had the urge to do so before? What could have _possessed_ him to actually tell her that _"she was the brightest student he ever had the pleasure of teaching"_? Just the very thought that he had said such things aloud made Snape feel positively ill. Yet, he couldn't deny it and that was half the problem. He sank down onto the bed and held his head in his hands. It was - the truth. He never had, nor would he ever, have a student more intelligent and eager to learn like the muggle-born Granger. But _why_ on earth did he have to tell her that and to her face no less? With the careless use of twelve saccharine coated words he had destroyed all the fear and intimidation he had labored seven long years to achieve.

Whether or not some outside force had caused this predicament, the fact still remained that Snape was now committed to babysitting the wayward Gryffindor for the _entire_ Conference. Groaning inwardly he forced himself back onto his feet and began pacing again. But before he'd taken two steps, a wry smile twisted the Slytherin's lips upward as he realized that just because he crumbled under a single moment of unexplained altruism, it didn't mean he had to spend _every_ second of the next three days mollycoddling her. The instant he ushered her through the doors into the Conference, he'd abandon the _pest,_ leaving her solely to her own devices. Yes, he decided smugly, he would do just that.

__

However –

Snape paused again, tapping his index finger against his pursed lips. The current situation wasn't _completely_ void of merit. He could hardly complain that it did his reputation any harm to be seen in the company of such an exquisite creature. And wasn't it just a few hours ago that he had been lamenting over the lack of female companionship in his life? He raked his hands through his raven hair. This was his opportunity to rectify things - if only on a superficial and temporary basis, which was preferable considering who the female in question was.

For all intents and purposes, Snape's appearance with Hermione was sure to raise a few eyebrows and wag some tongues. It was a particular brand of gossip Snape had rarely – correction – had never been subjected to and as unpleasant as it would be, he'd - _force himself_ – to endure it.

"Gryffindors," said Snape contemptuously. "Are always more trouble than they're worth."

Like Granger, Ezra Boon was a Gryffindor. Snape snorted. Point well made. For in all likelihood Boon had made the _Granger situation_ common knowledge throughout the participating members of the Conference. The brilliant, ancient wizard who was harmless enough in his own right, possessed the rather unique ability to spread gossip without even trying.

If, by the grace of Merlin, Boon's loose lips found their way to Reid, then Snape would feel fully compensated for all the suffering he would apperceive through this whole – nightmare. The look alone on _Professor_ Reid's face when Snape escorted Miss Granger to the Conference was worth every moment he had to put up with that irritating Gryffindor. Reid would no doubt be furious over how Snape had procured so easily what he had failed so miserably in pursuing. And Snape had every intention of milking it for all it was worth.

A thundering cacophony filled the room causing Snape to freeze in mid-stride. He spun quickly around on his heels, his whole body tensed as he stared alarmingly in the direction of the sound. It was – the shower. The dark wizard's face visibly paled and a thin veil of sweat broke out on his brow. The whole idea of Hermione Granger being no more than ten feet away and naked truly unnerved him. Granted, there was a locked door between them and she was hardly interested in him, but still… What else would he expect in hell?

If someone had told Snape at breakfast that he would be sharing a hotel room with Miss Granger that very evening he would have maliciously berated them with his corrosive tongue for daring to even utter such nonsense. The thought alone he would have found to be both nauseating and sacrilegious. But here they were, and it was not in the least bit nauseating. Sacrilegious, on the other hand, it was definitely that.

The puerile side of Snape was offended by Hermione's willingness to share a room with him. Upon finding that the hotel was fully booked and she had no where else to sleep, Snape offered to share his accommodations – why he did so he could not fathom – but she accepted without hesitation. He curled his lips into a sneer. Clearly she viewed him as less of a threat – _sexually_ - than she did her deviant Oxford Professor. Or could it have been that sharing a room with her dreaded former Potions Professor was slightly above par with spending another night on the beach? Snape growled finding neither reason very flattering.

Yet the fact remained that Hermione – er – Miss Granger was still only ten, if not less, feet away and still very much (or so he hoped) naked. Severus Snape was not a coward, but at that moment he felt very much like one and he despised himself for it. He angrily scrawled a note leaving it behind on the bedside table as he fled the room for the safety of the hotel lounge.

As much as Hermione hated to admit it, Professor Snape was right. She was naïve. In all honesty she had presumed the rumors surrounding Reid were just that. Rumors. Gossip created by those jealous of Reid's overt attentions to the first year university students. The thought hadn't occurred to her when Professor Reid invited her to join him at the Potion Master's Conference that he had something more sinister in mind. And now, if she took the rumors into account, then it was obvious his motives weren't anything short of –

Hermione shivered underneath the heat of the shower that rained down upon her body. During her two years at Oxford, Reid had never once shown any feelings towards her outside the realm of academics. The whole idea of him being interested in her was, in her view, preposterous. But then again she never would have imagined Severus Snape as a knight in shining armor. Sniggering at the thought Hermione let the shower splash briefly upon her face before reaching for the shampoo and massaging it through her shoulder length hair.

It must have been the relief of seeing a familiar face amongst an ocean of strangers that made her approach Snape in the café in the first place. Even if, she mused, the familiar face did belong to an unfriendly body. However, she had to admit that his treatment of her over the last few hours was far from unfriendly.

For Hermione it was almost surreal that Snape was helping her when he had never shown her any kindness in all the years he had taught her. She never really loathed Snape to the same extent that Harry and Ron had. His treatment of them over the course of their time at Hogwarts was far worse than what she'd been subjected to. It didn't mean, however, that she hadn't been hurt by his acidic words and by his refusal to recognize even the smallest of her achievements.

In some ways it was almost hypocritical for her to willingly share a hotel room with Snape, when it was only the day before she stomped out of Reid's room furious upon finding out that it was his intent that they share the same bed. Hermione knew, however, beyond a shadow of a doubt that Snape would never even suggest such a thing. Besides it was hardly likely that Professor Snape would be interested in her in _that way_. The very thought of Snape being attracted to her or to anyone was almost laughable. Hermione had never imagined him being anything more than Professor Snape; the evil Potions Master who reveled in tormenting her and her friends.

Hermione giggled again. Wait until she told Harry and Ron about this. No - they would never believe that she spent the Conference as Snape's guest as well as sharing his hotel room. This was one of those times when the truth was stranger than fiction. Much stranger. And if she told Ginny - Hermione cringed. Ginny would certainly read something totally different into the equation indubitably turning it into something _romantic._ Perhaps she wouldn't tell them after all, besides she hardly thought that Snape would want it spread around that he was not the cruel Potions Master that he pretended to be.

She finished rinsing the shampoo out of her hair then washed the remainder of the beach off of her limbs. Turning off the shower, Hermione stepped out and wrapped herself up in a big fluffy towel. She dried and powdered herself before slipping into a light summer dress.

"Professor Snape?"

Hermione stepped into the room only to find it empty. Her soft cinnamon eyes spied the note resting on the bedside table. She picked it up and as she read it over, a smile crossed her face wondering if Snape would clear the room _every time_ she took a shower.

The exact same thought weighed heavily on Snape's mind as he sat brooding in a corner of the hotel lounge.

"Severus!"

Snape looked up from his healthy and still untouched glass of Firewhisky as Ezra Boon bounded over to him. Snape frowned even though he was more than pleased to see that the wizard had changed out of his unflattering swimwear and into something a little more suitable for a man of his stature and years.

"Where's your apprentice?" Boon inquired as he lowered himself down at the table across from Snape.

"Senility is finally settling in Ezra, as I know you are fully aware that I have no apprentice," Snape replied dryly.

"Very amusing, Severus. It's nice to see you've maintained that lightening sharp wit of yours." Boon rubbed his wrinkled hands together. "I am referring to that ethereal beauty you had clinging to you this afternoon by the pool." He jabbed a finger in Snape's direction. "Don't tell me you let her get away."

"Miss Granger is not mine, so therefore I did not 'let her get away'. And for the last time, she is - not my apprentice."

"Pity on both counts." Boon winked at him "You really should consider it you know. If it wasn't for the pretty little trinkets I keep around me, I would be long dead and buried by now."

"I will try to remember that," Snape sneered. "If I should be fortunate enough to reach the ripe old age of one hundred and thirty something, then I will endeavor to keep a – trinket – or two at my side."

"Hermione would make an excellent -" a toothy grin split Boon's face as Snape's eyes narrowed in on him, "- apprentice. My sources tell me she's got one of the brightest minds around – next to yours and mine, of course. She would thrive under your care, and I'm willing to bet that you would learn a thing or two as well," Ezra chuckled.

"I am sure that she is receiving adequate tutelage where she is." Snape responded coolly.

Boon shook his head. "I really wish you would reconsider leaving Hogwarts and come and teach for me at Oxford. Your extraordinary talents are being wasted on those children."

"As much as it loathes me to do so, I have to admit that you are correct – alas again I must decline. Besides you have - _Professor_ Reid," said Snape silkily. "And from what I hear he's – quite popular."

"For all the wrong reasons, I'm afraid." Ezra ran his withered hand through is thinning white hair. "He's giving us Potions Master's a bad reputation."

Snape raised his glass of Firewhisky to his lips. "Then why haven't you dismissed him?" he murmured before allowing the liquid to slide down his throat.

"Unfortunately his talents are 'appreciated' by those who have more say in the matter than I do." Boon sighed heavily, then quickly returned to his previous jovial mood the moment he saw Hermione enter the lounge. "Ah! The goddess has arrived."

Snape jerked around to see who Boon was referring to and for the second time that day his breath caught in his chest. Hermione looked incredible as she glided through the room towards them. Snape swallowed hard. Ezra glanced over and coughed discreetly. Snape turned and scowled at him.

"Professor Boon, Professor Snape," Hermione bestowed a warm smile upon them as she reached the table.

"No, no, no," Boon wagged a long, bony finger at her. "I told you when I met you at the pool this afternoon Hermione, to call me Ezra."

"Sorry, Sir," she replied automatically. Boon was up in a flash helping her into her chair beside Snape.

"Now none of that _Sir_ business either," his bright green eyes sparkled as he scolded her gently. "You'll make me feel like an ancient wizard if you keep that up."

"But you are ancient, Ezra," Snape hissed at him as he slid back into his seat.

Boon merely ignored him. The Professor's sour disposition didn't bother him in the least instead it encouraged him all the more. For years Boon had delighted in pushing Severus' buttons. He wasn't sure which was more amusing, his bitter retorts or the suppressed emotions on his pale face.

"Young Severus is just sulking because I have trinkets and he doesn't," Boon explained with a hint of childishness in his voice. Snape shot him a death glare that bounced off the old wizard with no ill effect.

"Trinkets?" Hermione asked a bit confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

As tempting as it was, Snape bit back the natural urge to give the Gryffindor a sarcastic reply. "Never mind, Miss Granger," Snape drawled. "Boon is known for both his eccentricity and dotage."

"Perhaps," Boon sighed. "But one thing I am certain of," the elderly mage took Hermione's hand gently in his, "is that you look breathtaking. Wouldn't you agree Severus?"

Snape replied only with a grunt. Scowling as he kept his dark eyes focused on the drink in front of him. Ezra was right, she was an ethereal beauty. He shuddered. He shouldn't be having such thoughts.

"Thank you, Ezra," Hermione said softly, feeling slightly annoyed that Snape hadn't even looked at her, but more importantly, why was she bothered that he hadn't?

"Severus and I were just talking about you," Boon smiled letting the sentence dangle.

Hermione glanced over at Snape who was still finding his drink extremely fascinating. "Oh?"

"Yes, we were discussing the idea of him taking you on as his apprentice," Boon squeezed her hand gently.

Hermione's eyes widened as her heart leapt at the thought. She had always known that Snape was by far the best Potions Master around – and to study under him – would be an incredible learning experience.

"Ezra," Snape growled threateningly. "Shut up."

Hermione's elation was short lived for the obvious anger in Snape's voice told her that the old wizard had spoken out of turn. Obviously having her as an apprentice was an option that Snape was definitely not interested in pursuing.

"As much as I would appreciate the opportunity," Hermione said smoothly, "I'm afraid that it wouldn't be something I'd be able to do." She buried her disappointment barely suffering Snape a glance as he looked up at her rather sharply. "Despite his social flaws, Professor Reid is an excellent Potions Master, and I am rather partial to finishing my final year at Oxford. After which, I've been invited to begin an internship with Dr. Thompson at St. Mungo's."

For once, Boon was speechless. He merely blinked at her in disbelief. Not sure if what she said was the full truth (something he would speak to Thompson about immediately) or if she was simply responding to Snape's negative reaction.

"So you see," Snape said in a cold whisper, "Miss Granger doesn't need me."

"That's not what I said, and you know it," Hermione huffed, irritated by his tone. "However, I do hope you're not offended, Professor Snape."

Snape vaguely shrugged a single shoulder. In truth he was disappointed – not that he had considered the possibility - or had he? But of course he would never admit that to her and especially not to Boon. One admission of stupidity was enough for one day.

"Why would I be?" he replied silkily as his black eyes met hers. "I hadn't actually offered you anything. If you will recall it was Boon who mentioned the imbecilic notion, not I."

Ezra wasn't the only one who caught the flash of hurt and anger that streaked across Hermione's face, yet she maintained control over her voice. "Good. I would hate for a simple misunderstanding to ruin our time together."

Snape nodded tersely in agreement, somehow not trusting himself to speak.

"Well, now that that is settled," Boon said cheerfully. "I was wondering, Hermione, if you would do me the honor of being my guest at the pre-Conference dinner tonight?"

Hermione felt Snape tense beside her and despite the fact he had aroused her temper and would continue to do so, her unyielding Gryffindor loyalty sanctioned her with only one option.

"Thank you, Ezra, but I've already promised myself to Professor Snape."

An amused smile played across Boon's face and mischief danced in his eyes. "Severus," he teased, "you lucky dog."

Hermione realized the innuendo of her words and blushed a magnificent shade of crimson. A solitary eyebrow that quirked its way upward was the only indication that Snape was somewhat pleased - and surprised with her decision. Hell was being to grow on him.


End file.
